Glimpse
by PrincessJade
Summary: These are just snippets, flashes, sweet moments of Usagi and Mamoru at their most intimate. These are not confined to any season, nor chronological. Mature Content.
1. Doodles

**Glimpse:**

100 Drabbles of Usagi & Mamoru

Author's Note:

In addition to _Insatiable_, I've decided to embark on a 100 drabble challenge, inspired by Alica Blade's drabbles, but more explicit—my cup of tea. I was going to tackle the same themes, but however I found them naturally more geared toward season one. Thus, I've decided to come up with them in a more collaborative fashion. I figured I'd pick out the first one, and then ask my lovely readers to think of one word they'd like me to use next, etc. I'd then pick one of the suggestions, and so on. I thought it would be a neat way of approaching this. I hope the response to this will be positive. So please, read, review and offer your suggestion!

Also, these are not confined to any season. Nor do I plan for it to be chronological in any way. These are just snippets, flashes, sweet candy of Usagi and Mamoru at their most intimate.

Additionally, I will try to keep this a daily update. And will attempt to stay around 100 to 200 words, but I make no promises.

Much love,

PrincessJade

**01. Doodles**

218

Oh, he's going to kill her, she muses and sits back on her heels to survey her masterpiece.

Granted, she's no artist, but she couldn't have asked for a better canvas.

It's perfection.

"Darling." She nudges him, first with a foot, then with an elbow. Still, no answer—he's dead to the world. She grins impishly and knows the solution is simple.

Slides down his body, hair undone, it pools around them. They are all silver and gold, glorious in their splendor.

She takes him in her mouth. Hears him sigh and feels him grow against her tongue, taste familiar.

Oh, he's awake now.

"Usako." It's a murmur, voice sleepy and surprised. With hands in her hair, he strokes, pets, and then lifts it away.

She grins, releases him from her mouth. "I've made you a present."

"A present? Where…" He trails off at the sight of black marker. It loops and swirls down his chest to finally end between two jutting hipbones. It's all hearts and stars and stick-figures galore. But the words, almost childishly scrawled, fill him up, beyond amazement, until he's spilling over with love.

_Endymion and Serenity. Usagi and Mamoru. Forever. Hopelessly. Yours._

"My love, you never cease to amaze."

She giggles, kisses him like she's sixteen again.

"You really like it?"

"It's wonderful."


	2. Mouse

Author's Note: Ah, I see asking for suggestions was like pulling teeth. Oh, well. I don't mind coming up with words on my own. Haha. And when I'm stuck, well that's what roommates are for! R&R please. Much love, PrincessJade.

**Glimpse**

100 Drabbles of Usagi & Mamoru

**02. Mouse**

163

It's midnight when she finally slips in beside him, body wrapping around his. She's all long limbs, silky hair, and secret smiles. Latching her mouth onto his collarbone, she sucks until she sends shudders down his spine.

"Your parents-"

It's a protest, but even he knows it's weak.

They glance to the right, hear the warning snores beyond the screen, but it only heightens the thrill. But she's reckless, wants him too much, and he's so hard at the mere sight of her.

"Shh," She whispers, barely above a breath, and rubs herself against him. "Quiet."

"Like a mouse." He promises, feels the heat of her, slick and wet.

"Good boy." She grins and then takes him in at last.

And much later, after she's given them a slow fuck into the heavens, she brings them both there with a lazy swirl of hips.

_Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck. Yes._

And he swallows her satisfied laughter, keeping his promise, so only a squeak escapes.


	3. Possession

Thank you all! You all are so sweet. Thank you for all your suggestions. I shall use them in the future. Here's your drabble for the day, and I'm currently working on chapter five of Insatiable for the weekend—Although, I don't know when I shall get the time to post it. I have tons of work to do, since my thanksgiving break is on its way, plus I have to teach this Saturday, and on Sunday I committed myself to work the Portfolio Day at Parsons—which I'm looking at 8-10 hours of greeting those sad, but hopeful seniors, massive portfolios in hand. Haha, ah I really need this break.

Much Love,

PrincessJade

**Glimpse**

100 Drabbles of Usagi & Mamoru

**03. Possession**

**250**

"He's sweet."

"Sweet?" With a darkened gaze, he's all points and edges. Scowling, he plucks the offending note from her tiny hands and backs her up against the kitchen counter. "More like too sweet. He's a toothache waiting to happen."

She laughs, dismissively, and tries to take the note back. But he tosses it carelessly to the floor.

She sighs, face stern. "Oh, Mamo-chan. Don't be ridiculous."

"I'm not." He assures, hands sliding possessively down her backside. He lifts her roughly and presses against the sweet point between her thighs, then with a push she's up against the sharp edge of the sink. "You're being ridiculous."

His lips may be wicked, but she knows his eyes are desperate.

"Tell me you love me."

"Of course I love you. You know I…oh!" She gasps when lace rips and buttons pop. He loves the sound of it all and, jerking her hips upwards, he's suddenly inside.

Unmerciful, deep, and demanding.

"Tell me you want me." Thrusts himself in time with his words, ending each syllable against her clit, until she's breathless and quivering all around him. "Only me."

"Yes, yes, yes. Only you. Always you."

"You're mine."

"Oh my god," she's sobbing from the endless pleasure, impaled deliciously on his cock, nails digging into the back of his neck. "Yes, yours. Forever yours. Forever and ever."

He fucks her hard now, in earnest, and she knows no more words are needed.

For his bone-melting kiss is the perfect period to it all.


	4. Morning

Author's Note: I know that most of you are following Insatiable as well. And I just want to clarify, because some of you had problems with Mamoru smoking, etc. My Usagi and Mamoru are not always perfect and they are not always good. And although that may not follow canon nor seem to fit into canon, they exist, real and in character, inside my work. This is how I choose to write them. If that's not your cup of tea, great, more power to you. If it is, even better—or if you're not sure, give it a try. Anyways, that disclaimer readily applies to these drabbles as well. I just want to be thorough on that and although I wish I could please all my readers—I know I cannot.

Much love, enjoy, and thanks for all your reviews.

PrincessJade

**Glimpse**

100 Drabbles of Usagi & Mamoru

**04. Morning**

**194**

She's all a glow in the new morning light.

Pink, swollen, and luscious—fragrant from last night's fuck.

He debates for a millisecond, knowing it's Saturday and that they have an hour until small lady will be in for her weekend snuggle, but then his queen is shifting, thighs opening innocently in invitation, and it's decided.

They'll have to take their chances.

He dives between her legs, laps at her until she's sighing, hands threading through his hair.

She moans in greeting, whispering his name.

"Mamo-chan."

Even after all these years, despite becoming Serenity and Endymion once again, in the bedroom is he always Mamo-chan. And she, always, Usako.

"Yes, ah, just like that. Mm, don't stop."

And then she's coming, quickly and without warning, all quakes and spasms, and her taste is so exquisite, it sends his hips into a mad frenzy. He humps the mattress with mouth still latched onto her, drinking her up. The laughter is sweet, it bubbles up from the pit of her stomach. She grabs his cock suddenly, guides him inside with a mischievous grin.

"I couldn't just let you waste _this_ on the sheets, now could I?"


	5. Rolling

**Glimpse**

**100 Drabbles of Usagi & Mamoru**

**05. Rolling**

**279 **

Everything is alive. There is a thin gauze over her world—it's all shimmer and glow.

Ecstasy.

"This is amazing."

She can feel the world. It beats inside her body, in time with the sped up rhythm of his heart. The music is in her soul, his eyes in her teeth, his lips pressed against her ear, his hands around her heart. Everything is good, nothing can bring her down. She's soaring, eyes huge sapphires of sensation.

"I feel like such the rebel."

She's spinning, limbs long and golden beneath a silver dress—a sun-kissed snowflake.

"We are. One time rebels." He reminds her, smiles from the dark corner of the nightclub. He pulls her toward him, she sprawls across his lap. She wraps her spider-arms around his neck, gives him a blissed-out grin. "Drink some water."

She does, it slides down her throat and she feels it ripple under her skin. She flexes her powerful thighs around him, rolls against him like a wave, offering her perfect breasts to taste.

When he kisses her, tongues one perfect nipple to attention through the silk, she's squirming against him, all sighs and shudders and quivering legs.

"Harder, harder, harder."

She chants, mindlessly, her body on fire, her skin so alive. Then he bites her and she surprises them both by coming quickly, sharply, and without warning. It's a pulsating roll of pleasure that she never wants to end. And she grabs his hand, buries it between her legs, flesh slick and hot and demanding.

"More. Now. So good."

"You're so good." He's laughing now, dragging her in for a deep kiss as his fingers stroke her into oblivion once again.


	6. EasyStarfish

Author's Note:

I couldn't help myself. It kind of ran away with me. So please enjoy this generous drabble. And review, of course.

Much love,

PrincessJade

**Glimpse**

**100 Drabbles of Usagi & Mamoru**

**06. Easy-Starfish**

597

She lures him there with her bedroom eyes and a luscious mouth—it's a silent promise of more. Then teasing him with shallow kisses and hovering touches, she lets his desire simmer in his in veins. She takes his hands, starfishes their palms, fingers entwined. She rubs her pink lips against his knuckles before she speaks; her tone so casual that he misses the sparkle in her eye.

"You know I'm still mad at you."

He smirks, remembering the childish prank he and Chibi-usa pulled this morning—one of their favorite father and daughter pastimes. In justification, he tells himself, it's not their fault that she, their darling queen, just so happens to be the most gullible person in all of Crystal Tokyo.

"We only do it because we love you," he says, deciding flattery his best option, though he sees by the skeptical arch of her brow that it's not promising. "You can't be serious."

"Try me."

She moves swiftly then and, with two unexpected clicks, he finds himself cuffed to their wrought ironed bed. He watches her, still confident, as she pulls an azure nightdress over her head. He licks his lips at the familiar sight, knows her beauty is flawless, her body lithe and tight.

"You're too easy." He taunts lasciviously. "I know this game well."

"You do? What happens next?"

"You take my pants off."

She nods and turns to give him a delicious view of her ass while she slides his pants off. His cock springs forth, slips between the fullness of her breasts. He groans in satisfaction, expecting her sweet mouth soon.

But instead, to his surprise, she spreads his legs and cuffs him at the ankles. Then she spins around, kneels above his straining cock with a wicked look. He's suddenly nervous.

"Oh, look what I've caught! You're such a pretty little starfish," she whispers, hands moving over her body to tantalize. She dips her hips, gives him a low moan when his cock brushes the inside of her thigh. "Do you want me? Like I want you?"

"Fuck yes, Usako. Yes." His eyes are smoldering, muscles straining beneath bronzed skin. Brimming with impatience, he gives a trying tug with his wrists, finds the chains strong, but not impossible. "You've proved your point. Now give us a fuck."

"I could…" She undoes her hair so it brushes against his cock, hips, and thighs—and fuck, how she loves breaking his restraint, loves the aggression that only she can bring forth. "But that's too easy, Mamo-chan. And since you think I'm too easy—I'll make it—you—harder instead."

She then spreads her thighs further and slides two fingers inside. Rubs her clit in sync with her undulating hips and knows he's close to breaking, she can see it in the hard line of his jaw. She gives a throaty laugh, feeling the beginning chords of orgasm, and strokes faster.

And she's not surprised, on the edge of bliss, when he breaks the metal cuffs in desire, lifting her roughly with knees hooked over his elbows, and swiftly embeds himself to the hilt. They both grunt in gratification, with her vibrating around him, a plucked string, on the edge of euphoria.

His smile is slow as he dips her down and then back up, so she's just throbbing around the head of his cock. He rests his forehead against hers and pants, "Like I said, you're too easy."

"Not as easy as you." She rebuts, always wanting the last word, before he yanks her down and they both take the fall.


	7. Translucent

**Glimpse**

**100 Drabbles of Usagi & Mamoru**

**07. Translucent**

**318**

Tonight, the palace garden is sweet and heavy—its fragrant blossoms climb across white trellises and dangle from impressive stone archways. Serenity wanders through the winding maze of vines and roses until she can no longer hear the laughing guests and their clinking glasses of champagne.

Finally alone, she breathes a sigh of relief.

Earth is such a strange place.

She much prefers its rolling landscapes, lush and vibrant, to its awkward people, who are full of foreign customs and gossiping mouths.

She comes to a shimmering lake, its water speckled with moonlight and twinkling stars. There are fireflies all aglow and they dance among the willows that line the waters edge. Charmed, she slips the straps from her alabaster shoulders and watches as her dress falls into a pool of silk and organza at her feet.

Stepping forward, so the dark water tickles her ankles, she smiles and thinks how lucky earth is—with its oceans and rivers and lakes. And how much its people take their planet, so full and teeming with life, for granted.

She then looks up, sees her homeland, a sparkling pearl in the cosmos, and gladly swims out to meet its reflection.

Hours later, this is how Endymion finds her, hair and limbs spread out, still floating atop the moon's wavering image, her body radiant and unmarked in its silver light.

"Princess," he greets, stirring the water with his heavy boots, and knows he's startled her. "I've been looking all over for you."

"You have?" She turns, rising from the water like Aphrodite herself, and faces him, hair dripping and translucent against her breasts and hips and thighs. "What ever for?"

He stumbles out to meet her, movements awkward and uncomfortable, and knows no other woman will ever make him feel this way. He catches her hand, brings it to his lips and shows her his heart.

"For your love, of course."


	8. On Edge

**Glimpse**

**100 Drabbles of Usagi & Mamoru**

**08. On Edge**

**218**

He lifts her from behind, by the hips, and her pink slippers fall to the ground as he bends her over the metal railing. Her hair is undone. It swings forward to dance with the wind. Startled, she reaches for his hands with a cry of panic.

"Mamoru!"

"Shh…I've got you. Trust me." Comes his tantalizing reply, mouth pressed against the back of her neck, right below her hairline. When he feels her relax, he spreads her legs with one knee and then slides a hand under her robe. "You're so wet. I knew it. You always want me."

"Ah—fuck." She gasps, mouth falling open, as he thrusts inside and fills her the way she loves—so full and deep. There, in the morning light, he fucks her, bent over his balcony, for everyone to see.

And the blood is rushing to her head, but she doesn't care, as she watches the people below. On edge—everything's swimming, shimmering, shifting into tiny little pinpricks—and she's so dizzy with it all.

"Yes! Yes! Yes!"

Oh, it's so good. It's always good. But—yes, harder!—this is amazing. Because, when she comes, long and sharp, though she feels as if she's flying down toward the pavement, she knows he's got her.

She knows he'll never let her fall.


	9. Full

Author's note: The poem is Pablo Neruda's "Sonnet LXXXI"

**Glimpse**

_**100 Drabbles of Usagi and Mamoru**_

**09: Full**

**187**

Lately, these moments—their exhausted and blissed-out aftermaths—are his favorite.

They are on their sides, legs intertwined, as their hands greet one another from across the large sloping expanse of her belly. She is sweetly sweaty, hair curling away from the base of her neck in enchanting crescents and spirals. He kisses and licks the salt from her skin, weaves the words of Neruda through her hazy mind.

"No one else, love, will sleep in my dreams. You will go, we will go together, over the waters of time. No one else will travel through the shadows with me, only you, evergreen, ever sun, ever moon…"

And he adores her likes this, swollen and attentive, and finds himself in masculine awe of her constant state of fullness.

She is as round as the moon—full of their love, their mystery, their child. And in these last few months, he wants to savor her like never before.

And at last, when he fucks her gently, lovingly, tenderly, they both know they are so full, brimming over, with the fountain of life and the eternal promise of more.


	10. Smooth

**Glimpse**

**100 Drabbles of Usagi & Mamoru**

**10: Smooth**

**241**

"I'm disgusting and fat and I can't even…" She wails; little face contorted in despair. She spreads her legs and looks toward him, but when she cannot see past her bulging stomach she begins to sob afresh.

He feels helpless.

"You're gorgeous and it's just the hormones—"

She sobs harder and he knows that was probably the stupidest thing to say.

"Usako, please be reasonable. You don't need to be—no, wait. I have an idea." He kisses her temple and strokes a soothing hand across her face. He disappears into the bathroom. When he returns, he has a bowl and washcloth in hand. "Come here."

She complies, eyes wide and watchful. She sniffles, face sullen as a child.

Then she sees the razor. She starts to cry again as he spreads her legs. But this time her tears are full of love.

"Oh, Mamo-chan, you don't have—"

"Shh, I want you to feel beautiful."

He then shaves her carefully, stretching her folds taut beneath his steady hands. He wipes up any pinpricks of blood, until she's smooth and glowing. When he's done, he kisses her center, a tender greeting.

"Arigato," she whispers, gaze soft and open. She reaches down, grasping his hand in hers. "You're too good to me."

He smiles and is glad that she's smiling too.

"While I'm down here, shall I paint your toenails too?"

And at last, her tears aside, she begins to laugh.


	11. Orchid

My dearest readers: Ah, yes, I know. I'm sorry! I've been a bad author. So I apologize. But this semester has been insane. But it's almost over and I hope to devote some of my summer to completing Glimpse and Falling Is Like This. But patience. Please. And reviews and love (are welcome) too. Much love. PrincessJade.

**Glimpse**

**100 Drabbles of Usagi & Mamoru**

**11: Orchid**

**167 **

Her ankles are dainty stems, covered with the palest stretch of skin he's ever seen. Beneath, he knows her bones are regal, a structure of ivory marrow fit for a queen. He caresses them with a warrior's hand—strong and sure.

"Endymion." She warns, watching his hand as it creeps beneath her shimmering skirts.

"Serenity." He mocks her tone, fingers sliding up to curl coercively, like his words, around her fragile knees.

"We can't."

"We can."

"We cannot." She presses a silver orchid, full bloom like her smile, against his devilish mouth. "You can wait."

"I can." He agrees, gently spreading her thighs. "But I just want a kiss."

"A kiss?"

"Just one—one long kiss." He murmurs and watches her with hooded eyes. "Yes?"

"Yes…just one long…ah, Endy—" She squeaks in surprise as his head disappears beneath her skirts.

"Shh, my love."

At last, she finally drops the orchid with a sigh, hands grasping at his dark hair, Endymion knows this afternoon will be sublime.


	12. Red

I'm sorry. I've surrendered to summer sunshine and movies and the salty ocean. Forgive me.

Everyone is allowed some indulgences.

I ask only for your patience.

Much love,

PrincessJade.

**Glimpse:**

100 Drabbles of Usagi & Mamoru

12: Red

306

"You're ridiculous."

"Me?"

Her eyes narrow into slits of blue flame.

And he notices, from his makeshift bed on the floor, that she's clenched her fists into little red balls.

"Yes, you."

Oh, she's livid. Seething. Ready to pounce.

She's almost rewound time, and he remembers his fresh-faced Odango Atama from long ago. Only he sees that her rage, hot and molten beneath her willowy frame, is much worse than any fourteen-year-old Usagi had ever had. Oh, yes. It's the rage of a woman, of a wife, of a Queen.

"Get up. What are you trying to prove?"

"Go back to bed, Serenity."

"Mamoru." She warns, lets him know he's treading on thin ground. Reminds him she's not coming to him as Serenity. She's coming to him as Usagi. There is no diplomacy in the bedroom. "Get up. Are you two?"

"I wouldn't expect you to understand."

Is that a growl? He wonders for a split second before she's launched herself at him, fists and nails and teeth. And then she's crying.

Everything slows.

"Come back to bed. Of course I understand."

"I don't think you do—"

"Don't be ridiculous, Mamo-chan."

"I'm not—"

She surprises them both and bites him hard. Bottom lip between her teeth in a vicious kiss.

Ah, yes. That shut him up.

He tastes his blood. And so does she.

He gazes at her.

After a long moment, she says, "I'm sorry."

What can he do?

He accepts. Only because he knows she's apologizing, even in the guise of making him bleed, for being difficult. For pushing his buttons. Purposefully. As all women do.

"Usako."

He lets out a sigh of amusement and rises, still in her death grip, and carries them back to bed.

God knows she's crazy, but he loves her. And he knows she loves him too.


	13. Gravity

**Glimpse:**

100 Drabbles of Usagi & Mamoru

**13: Gravity**

**422**

"Where are we going?"

"Shh. It's a surprise." She whispers, unable to cover her secret smile with the back of her hand.

He lets her lead him through the gardens, farther and farther away from the palace. Although, truth be known, he'd much rather pull her into the brush and have his way with her. He'd much rather kiss her lips and part her thighs, than discovering this so called "surprise".

But propriety keeps him from saying so.

And anyway, she's a princess and thus skillful at evading his advances. Even now, after they've fallen in love, he finds she keeps him at a distance.

She grabs his hand and turns to give him a smile—something new and poignant behind the curve of her lips.

He has no idea where she's taken him. And a few minutes later they come up to stone wall. She parts a veil of vines, revealing a door, and pulls them through.

And he feels it—instantly—the change of air, the shift of weight. Her dress is floating. Her hair has a life of its own. She jumps and he follows suit. They are levitating, weightless, above the silver landscape of the moon.

"When you and your court arrived, my mother put up a barrier around the palace. She thought you'd be more comfortable with an atmosphere closer to earth."

He's silent, transfixed by her grace, as she wraps around him in slow motion. He feels them begin to sink, faster when they are one.

"I wanted you to feel it. I wanted you to understand."

"Understand what?"

"All my life I've known what it's like to feel weightless, to feel free. And then you…and then I met you…and I felt you. I felt gravity."

And then she's kissing him. Her thighs have wrapped around his heart and he finds they have touched the ground again.

"I want you to always remember this, even if you will eventually forget me. I know I'm not the only woman you've ever been with. I know that. But you are my first. And I want you to experience a first with me, even if it's something as silly as this."

"Serenity." He is solemn, hands cupping her face. "But this isn't a first for me."

He sees the disappointment in her eyes.

"It's not?"

He shakes his head and throws her up into the air. He leaps after her and catches her hand, fingers entwining, before she can look away.

"No. I feel this every time we touch."


	14. Painter

**Glimpse**

100 Drabbles of Usagi & Mamoru

14: Painter

336

They are feeling adventurous.

Sick of the pressure of destiny—of knowing what is to come—they go out to the countryside for a breath of fresh air. Out here, they are just one boy and one girl, head-over-heels in love, entangled beneath a blue-ripened sky.

They keep it simple—a blanket, green as the grass, but a bit more comfortable to lie on. She carries a basket of food for eating, one of her favorite pastimes, coming only second to him. And he brings his sketchbook and paints. Though, in the end, they never meet paper, only her sun-speckled flesh.

While he kisses her speechless, their tongues tangling, he makes her gasp with paint-covered hands—his touch cold and slippery. He paints her in shades green and gold, like an Amazon Queen, and tells her wickedly delicious things—_your sweet, slick, fragrant cunny_—that only she and mother-nature can hear.

He enters one, and then two, long fingers, thumb up against her clit.

Oh, seeing stars, he drives her wild, hips insane.

She comes quickly, with the sharpness of a firecracker, and all but cries his name. And he's right there with her and tells her she's the one for him, destiny be damned, whether she be a princess-incarnate or a super-heroine or only a silly Tokyo school girl.

She fears her swelling heart may block her throat.

When he enters her at last, she can hardly breathe. The paint seeps from her pores to his, as he tells her she's the only canvas he'd ever want to paint. The only girl he'd ever want love. The only heart he'd ever want to possess.

She tells him he has it, teeth digging into his shoulder, and that he will always have it. And as he fucks her in that wind-blown field, his words and hands and cock, turn her into a brilliant prism of color. And, though it begins to rain, she comes again and again and again, until all she can see is rainbows.


	15. Baby Blue

Author's note:

Thank you all for the sweet reviews. It's appreciated. This "glimpse" is a bit sad. But I'm trying to explore the idea of intimacy. The highs and the lows of it. Regardless, I hope you enjoy this. Much love.

PrincessJade.

**Glimpse**

100 Drabbles of Usagi & Mamoru

_15: Baby Blue_

353

She's been in the bedroom for days on end. She cries and sleeps and then cries some more. And he is at a loss of what to do.

Gone is his golden Usako, all smiles and bubbly words. In her place is a hollow woman, a cracked shell, an aimless ghost.

He remembers the blood. Oh, there had been so much. He remembers the color. Red on white—tile, thighs, frantic hands—and knows it's a sight he'll never forget.

It's his loss too, you know. But somehow, he feels she's lost more.

And he thinks he should have known. He should have realized in those early days, when the doctor had told them it was a boy.

But hope had been so much easier.

"Usako."

She turns to him, wrapped in a shear nightgown, hair undone. The bed is wrinkled. But her eyes are dry.

"Mamoru."

It's the first time she's spoken since their loss.

He touches her face. And then she begins to cry again.

"There will always be Usa." He tells her, as she clings to the sheets.

The bed smells of despair.

"It's just—oh, Mamo-chan—how can I explain?"

"Darling, there's no need—"

"No. There is. There _is_ Mamoru."

He kneels before her so they are one height. Face to face, she grips his shoulders and locks their gazes.

"I've always dreamt of giving you a son, did you know that? I've always wished for him, deep down. And I thought—oh, I hoped—that just maybe…" Her eyes are full of sorrow and something else, perhaps acceptance. "He would have been so beautiful."

"He—" Mamoru begins, but the words have lodged themselves in his throat and he can't speak. He grabs her around the waist and buries his face in her lap. His shoulders are shaking and she realizes how, so blinded by her own grief, she had forgotten about his own.

"Oh, Mamo. Darling. Love."

His tears soak through her nightdress. And she bends, pressing him close to her womb, and rocks them both, through their tears, to a lullaby for their baby blue.


	16. Spoon

A/N:

Shh, this is for you. Yeah, you.

PJ

**Glimpse**

_100 Drabbles of Usagi & Mamoru_

16: Spoon

117

Light is falling through the blinds—all askew.

Her mouth tastes of crown royal and adolescent adventures.

She knows she'll have to move, shift, and greet the world. But right now, she'll close her eyes again and believe in ignorance. Because he's spooned against her, chin pressed into her shoulder blade, and she can count his every breath.

With his mouth against her neck, arms curling like calligraphy around her waist, she feels safe.

And she'll gladly forget herself and him—Odango Atama and Mamoru-Baka—as long as they can stay like this forever. Hovering between dreams and reality, safely scooped into the spoon of his embrace, with her heart ripe for him to taste.


	17. Downhill

**Glimpse**

_100 Drabbles of Usagi & Mamoru_

17: Downhill

159

He finds her across town, looking a bit desolate. Something's bothering her—that much he can tell—and so he offers her a ride.

"On your bike?" She's skeptical, but steps closer. "I don't think it's possible."

"It is. Here."

He helps her onto the seat, lets his shoulder be her guide. And when she's settled, he gives her a winning smile, and begins to peddle.

The route to her house is all downhill, but even if it wasn't, she's light as a pixie. Besides, he feels, with an upmost certainty, that he would bike up mountains as long as she was at his side.

Her hands are warm against his shoulder blades. And, even with her legs dangling, she has superb balance. Though, he wishes she didn't, so she could hold him closer. As they descend, wind in their hair, they both wish she'll press her cheek between her hands, mouth against his back.

But she never does.


	18. Stars

A/N:

I'm slowly working on Falling. But these are much quicker and easier to write. School has just started. Enjoy. Review. Much love.

PJ

_This is you. And me. And what we cannot have._

**Glimpse**

_100 Drabbles of Usagi & Mamoru_

18: Stars

178

When he kisses her like this—thumbs circling the corners of her mouth—she sees stars.

And it's not just the sex, because she can do without it, as long as he never stops kissing her.

He makes her shake. And then makes her quake. His teeth are on her collarbone.

"You like that?"

Oh, god, yes. Yes. Yes, she does.

And he's so tender, more than she ever thought he'd be, and that breaks her heart.

She loves the little sounds he makes, loves the extra force of his mouth, the confident pressure of his fingertips along her spine.

He has the most wonderful hands—wide and long and slightly callused.

She grips his jaw, bites his lip, and feels his heart stumble up against hers.

He's gripping her fingers, stroking her side, pushing on her hipbone and she can't breathe. Oh, god, she can't breathe. She wants to die. Like this. Forever and ever.

"We need to stop."

"We do."

But he's still kissing her, their mouths like magnets, and she knows she just fell in love.


	19. Cards

A/N:

A lot of things have happened. I've been busy, mostly super distracted, and I've fallen in love. Much inspiration. Just, writing it all out, less fun than the real thing. ;) But I promise I shall get to it all.

Much love,

PJ

**Glimpse**

_100 Drabbles of Usagi & Mamoru_

19: Cards

152

It's evening and she's curled in his recliner, feet tucked beneath her, math homework spread across her lap. He's sitting in front of the coffee table, drinking tea and playing solitaire. This has become their nightly ritual—at least on the weekdays—and it feels right, timeless even, like a favorite childhood toy.

Everything is soft in the glow of the lamplight, tenderly accented by sound of jazz pouring forth from the stereo.

She loves this time together. And, though, she's supposed to be solving equations, she can't really concentrate on anything but him.

Instead, she watches him play cards, noticing how his eyes—the most wonderful blue—are alert and his pattern of thought is illuminated. She's in awe of his intelligence and likes his off-beat sense of humor and his romantic charm.

But most of all she loves his hands and the way he flips, shuffles, and deals—confidence defined.


	20. Rooftop

**Glimpse**

_100 Drabbles of Usagi & Mamoru_

20: Rooftop

257

He takes her to the roof, grinning mischievously, and wraps her up in the blue of his comforter and the lines of his arms.

"Let me show you how beautiful America is, Usako."

Crown Heights is dark, lit only—it seems—by the Brooklyn Museum, glowing like the Parthenon in the distance. But then he points across the sky to where Manhattan is spread before them, its own universe of twinkling constellations.

And she wants to say it, especially when he looks at her this way, but she won't. Not yet. They're still finding their way back to one another. Distance has changed them. She's no longer a child. Instead, she's a full-fledged woman, strong and independent, on the cusp of discovering something larger and more beautiful than their childhood love.

And she's still too fragile, a delicate shell, translucent and vulnerable. All that she can ask of him is that he builds her up slowly—from the inside out—and gives her the patience she needs. Because one day she will say:

"I love you."

And she will know she loves the man behind the mask. She will know she is satisfied with only the man. She doesn't need destiny or fate or superpowers. All she needs is him and his blue eyes and wide hands. All she needs is his smile, his warmth, and to share the simple hopes of Mamoru Chiba with her own.

And then, he will be as lost to her, as she is to him.

Only then will they be eternal.


	21. Blind

**Glimpse**

_100 Drabbles of Usagi & Mamoru_

21: Blind

161

He smells like the rain, a light mist, hovering and humming and winding over her sloping body. And she can sense his mouth, a lush love, skimming across the acres of her bare skin. The room is silent. The only sound reverberates from within, his breath one beat off the baseline of her heart. And his hands are everywhere, yet nowhere, all at once.

It's never enough. These needs, these wants—they never stop.

She sighs and sings and cries his name. Sensation ripples and curls from the top of her head down to the tips of her toes. And as his teeth are descending her spine, one vertebrae at a time, his fingers are digging, tugging, lifting her hips to meet his.

_Shh, my love. Yes. Slowly. Slowly. Patience. One. Two. Three. Savor it. Feel it. Fuck, you're beautiful. My sweetling. My cunt. My Queen. I've got you. I've always got you. Mine. Mine. Mine. _

_Yes, yours. Yours. Always yours._


	22. Honey

**Glimpse**

_100 Drabbles of Usagi & Mamoru_

22: Honey

93

_Honeycup. Honeykettle. Honeymug._

He is everything she needs.

He is quick to make her laugh. And when she cries, he catches her tears, drinks up her sorrow so she is never alone.

_Honeyboot. Honeybubble. Honeyboat._

She knows what they have is something special, an intimacy that goes beyond bare skin.

He knows her deepest fears and she can sense his ever shifting moods.

And malleable, like water, they transform themselves into the perfect vessel, ready to be filled up with sweetness.

He is her—

_Honeypurse. Honeypool. Honeypapoose._

She is his—

_Honeydrawer. Honeychalice. Honeysafe._


	23. Sahara

**Glimpse:**

**100 Drabbles of Usagi & Mamoru**

23: Sahara

130

She loves the lazy mornings.

Those are the mornings when she wakes up first, arms stretching, and turns to find that he's still face-down into the pillows, legs tangled with hers. Today, it's almost noon and the sun is bright, casting shimmering color across their bare skin—tiny grains of blues, greens, reds, yellows.

And, god, how she loves his back—worships it even. She loves the dips and falls, prays at each and every subtle curve, kneels at every bump and ridge of his spine. Then licks her way back up, with a salty tongue, to start all over again.

For his back goes on for miles, it spans the Sahara with planes of bone and muscle. And though there are no sandstorms, she is just as easily lost.


	24. Fishbowl

**Glimpse:**

**100 Drabbles of Usagi & Mamoru**

_24: Fishbowl_

_394_

There are often moments in life that outshine most others. And when one happens to occur, memory takes the best of the best and overlaps them, until one's vision is brimming, all soft and incandescent.

This is one of those moments.

She is sure of it.

Tucked away in a perfect glass sphere, they are shining in a sapphire-emerald atmosphere. It's not fully overcast tonight. The clouds are patchy at best and allow for the moon and her silhouette to waltz across the sky like Rogers and Astaire.

He takes her hand, silently, for he's sifting through his new Avengers comic, though she doesn't mind. Truly, she rather likes this open circuit, fingers entangled, but minds adrift. They are not the only couple in the park this evening, but they are the only couple not lost in one another's eyes.

Oh, lust, she knows, looks best on the exterior. But love is best for the soul.

And, oh, she knows that she has love.

So while he reads, she watches a lone guitarist, backlit by lamplight, in the center of the square. She is mesmerized by the coins at his feet, which sparkle and dance, while his body moves to the chords at his fingers, as a goldfish swims through water. And at last he opens his mouth, his voice like honey over gravel, and sings out to her:

_How I wish, how I wish you were here._

_We're just two lost souls swimming in a fishbowl,_

_Year after year,_

_Running over the same old ground._

_What have you found? The same old fears._

_Wish you were here._

"I love you."

Startled, she looks up to find him smiling down at her, the corners of his mouth tucked away just so. This is the smile he reserves for only her. He has still got a hold of her hand and his tender squeeze lets her know that her Mamo-chan has returned. And, thus, so must she.

"Ready?"

He tugs her to her feet.

"Yes." She's suddenly laughing. From happiness? From contentment? From some intangible feeling? She not quite sure, but neither is he, as the sound shimmers down his spine, blossoming out from bone to vein.

It is the most beautiful thing.

For, as always, they have come full circle—their circuit once more closed—and so she lets him lead her home.


End file.
